I thought I heard
the summer die.
It was a small sound
and hollow.
He sat here with me
under this sky made of steam
with a tired smile
and his hat on the floor.
We only said good morning
and that was always early.
But there was one day
of rain,
one shower at midnight.
I hope he will forgive me
his sad sad death.
An old poem, right for the day. It’s from Finding Oakland, which you can have free gratis in the sidebar. 

One thought on “SOLSTICE

  1. LOVE this. The mood inviting, the bilateral ennui deflecting, the responsibility mutual.That hat on the floor. I'll be walking around it for a few weeks, methinks.

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